


Here We Lie in the Shadows

by muse539



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Spies & Secret Agents, and bellamy is a michelin restaurant inspector, and i just kind of went nuts, basically clarke is a secret agent, bellamy won't eat fast food if he can help it, he is above that, irregular uploading schedule, sorry - Freeform, this fic is entirely based off of a screenshot of a tumblr post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse539/pseuds/muse539
Summary: Clarke Griffin is an NSA Operative investigating the fraudulent election of Cage Wallace. She is told to meet an Agent Blake at one of Chicago's most prestigious restaurants, Arcadia. Only one problem, the wrong Blake is there to meet her.Bellamy Blake is one of the 120 anonymous Michelin Restaurant Inspectors. When the cover he uses to fly under the radar at the restaurants he evaluates backfires on him, he is thrown into a world of espionage, politics, and secrecy.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Charmaine Diyoza & Hope Diyoza, Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never published on Ao3 before. Woo! Let's see how this goes. I wrote this chapter today, and I have not edited it yet (sorry). I have the next 3 chapters outlined, so if there is interest I will keep posting.
> 
> The screenshot of a tumblr post that inspired it all: https://www.instagram.com/p/CEY-QUwHrx8/?igshid=w4bbxrccbxlm
> 
> Title is from the song "Devils in the Canyon" by The Strike

The clink of glasses against one another was the only sound that rose above the quiet roar of Arcadia’s patrons. It was there, tucked into an immaculately decorated alcove, awash in cool grays and chocolate, that Bellamy Blake could be found. The table was set for two, though only one place setting was being used. The other had fallen victim to manila folders and notebooks. To the waitstaff, he was a stressed out history professor who was trying to impress his borderline estranged wife on their anniversary. His wife was late. Several hours late. But hey, he may as well enjoy the first four courses of the 10 course tasting menu he’d prepaid for while he waits for her, right?

“More wine, sir?” The waitstaff truly offered exceptional service, he noted. That would have to make it into his report.

“Yes, please.”

The waiter, Reuben, deftly uncorked his bottle of the house Chianti and poured, Bellamy would dare say, a perfect 5 fluid ounce pour. He took a moment to admire Reuben’s consistency.

_ Oh yes, this will definitely make it into my notes. Arcadia, you may just get that third star you are hoping for. _

Reuben straightened up, wiping the mouth of the bottle with his cloth napkin. “Have you heard from your wife yet, sir?”

Bellamy chuckled ruefully. Princess, as he liked to refer to her, would not be making an appearance tonight. Or ever, quite frankly, as she didn’t exist. But, for Reuben: “Ah, no. Her boss is, if I can be honest with you, Reuben, a bit of an ass.” They both chuckled. “He’s not letting her out of his sights, but she told me to enjoy our reservation.”

“That’s a shame, especially on your anniversary. I’m sorry, sir.” Reuben had seen this play out many times in his career, husbands trying to woo their wives when no love remained.

“It’s alright. Every day with her is a gift, and at least, if I can finish this grading now, I can spend the evening with her.”

Reuben seriously doubted it. “Of course, sir. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you.”

Unbeknownst to either man, there was a lovely woman who had just entered the restaurant.

“Good evening, Ma’am!” The host crooned. “Do you have a reservation?”

Smiling, Clarke Griffin pulled her dark shawl from around her shoulders and folded it over her arm. “I do! But I think the rest of my party is already here.”

The host beamed at her. “Marvelous. Name?”

“Blake.”

_ Who knew this Agent Blake would have such swanky tastes? Arcadia, wow. Only the best restaurant on this side of Chicago. I hope they don’t expect me to foot the bill. _

“Ah! You must be Mrs. Blake! Your husband has been waiting for you all night. I can take your coat, if you’ll follow me?” The host deftly took Clarke’s shawl and began walking back into the dining area.

_ Husband? This guy must have some balls. It’s as good of a cover as any, I suppose. _

The host guided her to a table for two, one half of which was occupied by one of the most gorgeous men Clarke had ever seen.

He was slightly hunched over the dozens of papers on the table in front of him, pen flying over a notebook, appearing to be taking notes on the essays before him. His curly, dark hair was pushed back from his face, showcasing his sharp jaw. There was a slight pinch to his dark eyes as they raked over his paperwork.

The host stopped at the table and beamed. “Mr. Blake! It seems your wife was able to escape her work after all.” Clarke smiled.

Bellamy looked up in shock for a moment before schooling his features. He stood. “Princess! I didn’t think your boss would let you out of his sight tonight. I’m so happy you could make it. Happy anniversary!”

“Happy anniversary to you too, sweetheart.” The host pulled out Clarke’s chair as Bellamy attempted to clear his papers and Reuben filled her wine glass. Another perfect five ounce pour, Bellamy noted. “I hope you didn’t eat too much without me!”

“Of course not, Princess.”

_ Who is she? I’ve definitely never seen her before in my life, but she doesn’t seem surprised to see me? If she blows my cover I swear to God- _

Reuben laughed. “Mr. Blake has sampled four courses so far, but there is still plenty of the tasting menu remaining, unless you would like for me to bring you out a plate of what has been had so far?”

Clarke smiled at the waiter, brushing an errant blonde hair out of her face. “Thank you..” A glance at his name tag. “-Reuben, but I’m fine.”

He smiled. “Of course. I’ll leave you both to it.”

When he walked away, Bellamy leaned into the table and whispered, “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”

Clarke smirked as she looped her purse over the back of her chair. She was used to other agents thinking she would be a man. Her name was rather misleading, after all. Agent Blake should know better than to ask such a question, though. That’s why they agreed to a code conversation to confirm the other’s identity. You never know who might be listening. 

“Oh stop! You’re so silly.” She giggled.  _ God, I hate flirting. _ Clarke quickly glanced over some of the papers Agent Blake had pushed to the side.  _ Perfect. _ “Oh, are those Roman history essays? I was just talking to Marcus about that this morning.” She most certainly was not. “Who’s your favorite Roman emperor again? Marcus asked me, but I couldn’t remember. The one with two names?”

Bellamy frowned slightly.

_ Who the hell is this lady? _

“Um, well. That’s a bit of a hard question, Princess, me being a history professor and all. But if I had to choose, probably Augustus, because of Octavia. As for the two names part… He had a lot of names, actually. But his birth name was Gaius Octavius.”

Clarke’s hand tightened around the stem of her wine glass as she took a sip.  _ Bingo. Hello, Agent Blake. _

“Right, sorry. I don’t know how I managed to forget that! Anywhom, where’s the card you promised me this morning?”

_ What the f- _ Bellamy chuckled nervously, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Now it’s my turn to apologize. I seem to have left it at home. I knew I was forgetting something.”

Now it was Clarke’s turn to frown.  _ What do you mean you forgot? It’s not a matter of national security or anything. Maybe it’s not a card? _ “Oh no! And here I was looking forward to-”

Suddenly, the glass front of the restaurant exploded. Glass went flying as Arcadia’s patrons dove for cover. The dull roar of conversation was suddenly replaced by piercing screams. From the trashed front Arcadia, two dark, masked figures emerged, bolstering large assault rifles.

Cursing, Clarke pulled her pistol from her thigh holster as both Clarke and Bellamy slid to the floor.

“Woah, woah, why do you have a gun?” Bellamy looked at her with wide eyes.

Clarke turned to him, incredulous.

“Who are you?” Bellamy demanded.

“Who are  _ you _ ? Aren’t you a CIA Special Agent?”

“What? No! I’m a history professor!”

Clarke’s mouth dropped for one second before she turned back towards the commotion, swearing violently.

_ I can’t believe Agent Blake bailed on me and left me with a useless civilian!  _

The gunmen were interrogating the waitstaff, but were too far away for Clarke to discern what they wanted.

_ Fuck it. _

“Come on, we’re getting out of here.” Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s hand and, crouching, began tugging him towards the kitchens.

Bellamy, knowing when it is best to do what he’s told, quickly grabbed his notebook and followed.


	2. An Undisclosed Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy made it out of the now ruined Arcadia, but Bellamy still isn't sure what is happening, and Clarke doesn't know what to do with the civilian on her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry for the wait. I will warn you, my update schedule is going to be very erratic. I'm a senior in college, and between that and COVID, life has been keeping me busy! I hope you enjoy regardless!

The kitchen had a back door that led out into an alleyway. Staff were already silently guiding people outside.

_ Honestly, this place does have really great service. _

“Where are we going?” Bellamy asked, once he and Clarke made it outside. 

She shushed him before grabbing his hand once more, tugging him away from the restaurant and city center.

“No,” Bellamy tugged his hand free from Clarke’s. “I’m not going any further until you tell me who you are.”

Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s hand and began tugging once more. “My name is Clarke Griffin, and I work for the NSA. That’s all I can say right now, because if we stay here we’re both going to die.  _ Come on! _ ”

Dumbfounded, Bellamy blindly followed.

_ An NSA agent? Why was she sitting with me then? Where is she taking me? Why did those people want to kill us? _

Clarke and Bellamy ran through dilapidated alley after dilapidated alley. Some of the smells, the sourness of urine, the stench of weed, the warmth of rotting garbage, would surely linger on Bellamy’s clothes, something he didn’t relish.

Occasionally, Clarke and Bellamy would have to duck behind old wooden pallets or dumpsters to avoid being spotted by policemen or any people Clarke deemed suspicious. Bellamy still didn’t understand what was happening.

After 15 minutes of running, Clarke paused on a made road. “Come on.” She made a sudden left and pulled Bellamy into a thrift shop and walked directly up to a clerk.

“Sorry, Ma’am, we’re closed.” The clerk silently cursed the high schooler she’d hired for not locking the door before he left.

Clarke, wasting no time, pulled out her federal ID. “Ma’am, this is a matter of national security, we need to change our clothes. I apologize for the intrusion, but there is no time for debate.” Clarke pulled out a $50 bill and placed it onto the counter before turning away, pulling Bellamy towards the many clothing racks. 

The clerk blanched and stumbled out: “Uh, yeah, go ahead.”

Clarke was already pressing clothes into Bellamy’s hands. “Go change.”

“Why do we need to change?” Clarke was already tearing off her dress and slouching into a large flannel. Bellamy tried his best not to stare.

“We can’t risk being followed, and I don’t know if the gunmen got a good look at us before we made it out.  _ Change. _ ”

Wordlessly, Bellamy stripped off his suit coat and dress shirt and replaced them with a blue henley and soft leather jacket. He replaced his slacks with jeans while Clarke swapped her heels for more sensible sneakers.

Minutes later, they were back out on the street and running through Chicago’s alleyways. Eventually, Clarke hailed a cab.

“Calumet Park, and step on it.” She pressed a bill into the cab driver’s hand. His eyes widened.

“Uh, yeah, uh, right away, Ma’am.”

15 silent minutes later, the cab pulled to a stop in front of Calumet Park. The wheels had hardly stopped moving before Clarke threw open the door and set off into the park.

“What’s in the park?” Bellamy asked.

Clark grunted as she stumbled over some uneven pavement, Bellamy quickly grabbed her arm to hold her up. “Nothing, but if the cab driver gets questioned, he’ll say we went into the park.”

_ What the hell have I gotten myself into? _ Bellamy wondered as they walked through the park.

Eventually, they made it to the other side, and set off again down dilapidated streets. The city was dark now, but Clarke and Bellamy still found themselves avoiding streetlamps, trying, as best as they could, to disappear.

They found themselves in front of a rundown flower shop next to a Chinese restaurant. “Sandela’s,” the sign read. The windows were dark. Clarke walked up to the door and buzzed the intercom five times, first two quick buzzes, then three drawn out. There was a faint thud as the door unlocked. Clarke pulled open the door and entered, Bellamy following closely behind.

On the back wall, there was a large metal shelf, like the kind you’d find in a grocery store. Clarke reached behind the left edge of the shelf, and suddenly it swung out like a door, revealing a staircase.

“Woah.”

“Come on.”

Bellamy and Clarke ascended the staircase, which dead-ended into a door. Clarke knocked 5 more times, and the door swung open.

“Clarke, thank god!” A brunette woman threw her arms around Clarke, who returned the hug fiercely.

“Harper,” Clarke sighed.

“Miller and I were so worried when we heard Arcadia got blown up! We thought Echo finally got you! Is this Agent Blake?”

Both women turned to look at Bellamy. “Not quite,” Clarke said.

“Well, I suppose you both better get in here and explain, then,” a deep voice said, a man’s face appeared over Harper’s pale shoulder.

\---

“Okay, so, let me make sure I’ve got this straight.” The man, Miller, said. “You show up to Arcadia, where Agent Blake said that they would be waiting for you. You get seated with this guy-”

“Bellamy.”

“Right, Bellamy. So you get seated with Bellamy, who somehow knows the answer to your code conversation-”

“I’m a history professor, of course I know the Roman emperors!”

“Yeah, sure, but that  _ specific _ Roman emperor? Out of all of them? I mean, what are the odds!”

The apartment was nice, if sparse. Outdated wood paneling covered the wall behind the stained couch. There was a small kitchenette around the corner from the front door. A door to a small bathroom was beside the couch, and next to that there was a modest bedroom, complete with a set of bunk beds.

Bellamy frowned at the conversation.

“That’s besides the point. Where is the actual Agent Blake?” Harper asked, taking a seat next to Miller after pressing granola bars into Clarke and Bellamy’s hands.

Bellamy thought they were a little dry.

Clarke threw her hands up. “I wish I knew!”

“I think I might know who you were looking for.”

Clarke turned to Bellamy. “ _ What? _ ”

He put his hands up in a placating manner. “I still don’t know for sure, but the only other person I can think of who would fit all of the criteria you knew about would be my sister. But she’s a-” he used air quotes, “‘social media influencer,’ not a CIA agent!”

“A lot of special agents hide their jobs from family and friends, it’s probably not as far of a stretch as you think… And with social media as her cover, it would be pretty easy to justify all of the travel she would have to do,” Harper explained.

“What’s your sister’s name,” Clarke demanded.

“Octavia.”

“Like Augustus’s sister, which you said when I asked you.” She sighed.

“Yeah, I’m the one who named her.”

Miller snorted. “Nerd.” Harper smacked his arm.

“Have you been in contact with Octavia recently?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy sighed and began picking at his fingernails. “No. She and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. She thinks I’m overbearing, I think she’s immature, things like that.”

“Could you call her now?”

“Uh, yeah-” Bellamy fumbled in his pocket for his phone, discarding the granola bar on the coffee table. “Sure.” He dialed, and it rang, but went to voicemail, as always. “Hey, O. So, this is a little hard to explain, but I’m with some NSA agents right now, and I think they might be looking for you. So if you could, ah, call me back, that would be great. And while you’re at it, maybe explain what the hell is going on?” He ended the call.

“Well,” Miller sighed. “Best we can do now is wait.”

“No it isn’t. Agent Blake - Octavia - told me that if for some reason she couldn’t make it, she would leave instructions hidden at Arcadia.”

Harper frowned at Clarke. “So she’d leave instructions, but not, oh, you know, hang around long enough to tell you to your face?”

Bellamy snorted. “That sounds like Octavia.”

“She must have gotten called away for some reason.” Clarke sighed. “It’s probably for the best, or Echo may have gotten both of us.”

Frowning, Bellamy asked, “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that. What’s Echo?”

Miller leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Not what, who. Echo is an assassin.”

Eyes wide, Bellamy turned to Clarke, “You have an  _ assassin _ after you? Why?”

“For knowing things I shouldn't.”

“Care to elaborate on that?”

Clarke stares Bellamy down for a few seconds, thinking it over. Harper leaned in her direction. “You might as well. He’s involved now.”

“Yeah, there’s no going back now,” Miller added. “Not after Arcadia.”

Clarke sighed, breaking eye contact with Bellamy to send her friends a small smile. “You’re right.” She turned back to Bellamy. “You know the president?”

“Wallace? Yeah, why?”

“Do you like him?”

“Not particularly. I’m still not really sure how he won, what with Jaha winning the popular vote.”

Bellamy always had a bad feeling about President Cage Wallace. He rubbed Bellamy the wrong way, in ways that Bellamy simply couldn’t explain. Bellamy supposed it wasn’t Wallace’s fault that he had Resting Evil Face, though Bellamy didn’t exactly love Wallace’s politics either.

“That’s the problem.” Clarke sighed. “He  _ didn’t _ win. Too many things didn’t add up, so Miller, Harper, and I looked into it, and we uncovered things that Cage wanted to stay buried.”

The mood in the room turned somber. Bellamy could only imagine the anxiety, the fear of suspecting something and having it be true. “How did you guys know?”

A grumble from Miller, “We uncovered an email record between Cage and Diana Sydney.”

Bellamy frowned. “The head of Azgeda? I thought they hated the government.”

“They do.” Clarke sighed again, heavy. “But with Cage on their side, now they have the power. Cage promised them he would follow their lead if they got him elected, so Azgeda rigged the election.”

“Seriously?”

Harper piped up, “Well, officially, we don’t know. But we strongly suspect, based off of, you know, the assassin that’s been sent after us. The CIA has been looking into the situation as well, and Agent Blake was supposed to give Clarke the information we needed to confirm our suspicions, and, well-”

“Octavia wasn’t there.”

Harper nodded.

Eyes wide, Bellamy put his head in his hands. “Is my sister in danger?” He murmured.

Clarke placed a comforting hand onto Bellamy’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe. And maybe that’s why she didn’t show tonight. But I know how we can find out.”

“How?” Miller asked.

“She was supposed to leave a note at Arcadia, remember?”

“Yeah, but Echo shot up the place. Not much time to leave a note during that.”

Harper interjected, “No, but if she was around Arcadia earlier in the day…?”

“Exactly,” Clarke nodded. “I’m hoping she was able to get to Arcadia and leave instructions before I ever got there, so she wasn’t seen.”

Bellamy lifted his head. “Even if she did, that doesn’t mean much now. The place is in ruins, and people would be suspicious if they saw you rummaging around.”

Clarke’s shoulder lifted and fell. “It’s our only choice.”

\---

“This is a terrible idea!” Bellamy’s harsh whisper cut through the tense silence he and Clarke were sitting in.

“It’s our only choice, Bellamy.” She began to move towards Arcadia’s ruined doorway, taking care to stay away from any prying eyes.

“You know what? I have that phrase. It’s an oxymoron and I hate it and you’re going to get us killed. Why am I even here? It’s not like I-”

“ _ Please _ shut up.”

Bellamy grumbled, but did as she asked.

Slowly, they picked their way closer to the building. There was police tape sectioning off the ruined façade from the street, not that it made much of a difference. Any passersby could easily slip inside, with the lack of surveillance.

As they got closer, their silent footsteps were slowly replaced with ones punctuated by glass cracking and rubbing against stone. Clarke didn’t move any further than the doorway before she started gently rifling through the displaced stone.

“The note is out here?” Bellamy asked.

“I don’t know.” Clarke sighed, and sat back on her haunches. “But I can’t imagine Octavia made it inside. Then she’d have that overbearing host to contend with.”

Bellamy frowned. “I thought their service was magnificent.” Clarke silenced him with a glare. He grunted and began helping Clarke look through the rocks.

Several minutes passed. “I’m not sure there’s anything here, Clarke, it’s just a bunch of-”

“Found it!”

“I stand corrected.” Bellamy walked over to where Clarke was kneeling next to a large stone pot. She has pushed it aside, revealing a folded piece of paper wedged between the bottom of the façade and the sidewalk. Clarke used her keys to scrape it out.

“‘Dock 52 - AB,’” Clarke read. She turned to Bellamy. “Any idea what that means? She’s your sister.”

“I mean, Octavia lives in LA most of the time, so maybe it’s a place near the beach?”

“That makes sense - let’s go.” Clarke began to move away from the ruined building.

“Woah, wait-” Bellamy grabbed her arm, Clarke stared at his hand until he released her. “Just like that? You’re ready to go to LA based on a hunch?”

Clarke pressed her hands to her eyes. “I don’t exactly have another choice, Bellamy! I need the information that Octavia has, otherwise we don’t have a case against Wallace! Does he seem like the kind of man to leave office peacefully, just because he was asked? He has already sent an assassin after me that’s crazy enough to blow up a restaurant-” she threw a hand towards the rubble around them, “-full of innocents, even though I don’t even have any substantial evidence against him!”

Bellamy remained silent, stunned. Clarke’s eyes softened slightly. “Look, I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’m sure you had other plans. But you’ve been seen with me. Echo probably thinks you’re a contact, so now she’s hunting you, too.”

Bellamy sucked in a breath.  _ I am so far out of my element. _ “Okay. So what do we do?”

“For now, we go back and tell Harper and Miller what we found. Then we split for LA.” Clarke began walking once again. Bellamy followed her.

“Before we do that, I have one request.”

Clarke stared at Bellamy out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “What? We don’t exactly have time to waste.”

\---

“Clarke, this is Archimedes.” Bellamy held up the fat tabby.

Clarke first stared at the cat, then dragged her eyes to Bellamy’s face. “You have a cat. And you named it Archimedes? God, you really  _ are _ a nerd.”

“ _ History _ professor.”

“Nerd.”

Bellamy sighed. “Whatever. Just let me grab some clothes and take Archimedes to Mrs. Acton’s place, then we can leave.”

Bellamy’s apartment was a modest one-bedroom. He kept his decorations simple, Clarke supposed, if present at all. The walls were noticeably bare, with the exception of what looked like a family picture next to what Clarke presumed was the bedroom door.

Clarke examined it. In the photo, a younger version of Bellamy stood next to an attractive brunette, whose arm was around another man. Bellamy was smiling, but it looked strained. They were in front of a Christmas tree. “Is this Octavia?”

Bellamy resurfaced from his room, duffel slung over his shoulder and cat food in his arms, to find Clarke with her nose almost pressed against the photo. “Yeah. And that’s her husband, Lincoln.”

“Ah, is that why you look like you’re in pain? You don’t like the guy?”

Bellamy huffed. “No. I mean, I wish she hadn’t married a guy twice her age, but Lincoln is a good guy. No, O and I just tend not to get along. That was the day she told me that she was moving.”

“Hmmm,” was Clarke’s only response. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, just let me grab Archimedes.”

“Is there a reason you can’t just ask your neighbor to come and feed him? We really are in a hurry, and they likely know we’ve been here. We shouldn’t have come.”

Bellamy sighed. “Mrs. Acton is 93 and deaf, Clarke, and she doesn’t have a key. Layoff. And  _ some _ of us don’t have clothes stashed in safe houses. If I’m going to run across the entire country after my sister, I’m doing it in my own underwear, as nice as Miller is to offer.”

Clarke snorted.  _ Who is this guy? _ “Fine. Let’s go.”

After dropping Bellamy’s cat off with his neighbor- “Of course Bellamy! I’d love the company. No, no, put your money away.”- they were finally off. Clarke felt like she hadn’t taken a breath until she was pulling away from the curb in her newly-acquired rental. Bellamy felt similarly, though that was mainly due to the tension that was rolling off of Clarke in waves.

The sun had just begun to set as they pulled onto the highway. Bellamy had so many questions he wanted to ask Clarke, but something in her expression silenced him. When Clarke didn’t offer any conversation herself, Bellamy soon drifted off. It had been a long day, Bellamy reasoned. And if Clarke wasn’t going to talk, then Bellamy was going to sleep while he had the chance.

Clarke looked over when Bellamy’s head lolled forward. His mouth was slightly open, and his breaths came out in short puffs from his nose. In the darkness of the car and the slowly setting sun, Clarke smiled, just slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day! Tell me what you think is going to happen!
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one.tumblr.com/)


	3. BLT's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke make a stop in St. Louis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took so long for me to write! You know how it is. COVID, work, life in general - things have been nuts. I hope you enjoy!

Bellamy startled awake at the sound of a car horn being held for just slightly too long.

“Oh, fuck you too, buddy!” Clarke swore.

The bridge over the Mississippi River into St. Louis was busy, even so early in the morning.

“What time is it?” Bellamy asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sky was dark.

“A little past two. I pulled over at a rest stop for a while to sleep.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows creased. “You could have woken me up, I would have driven.”

Clarke waved a hand dismissively, and began to merge off of the highway, the iconic arch to their right. 

“I thought we were going to drive straight to LA?”

Clarke followed signs for the convention center, the smaller streets dark and quiet.

“I’m hoping Echo thinks that too. We’re better off driving only at night, and I have a friend who I’d like to talk to while we’re here.”

Eventually, Clarke pulled off of the street and into the parking garage next to a small hotel. Grabbing their meagre belongings and printing a ticket that promised parking would be entirely too expensive, they went inside.

The hotel was modest, but nice, and the man occupying the desk eyed them dubiously, no doubt surprised to see people coming in so late. Or early.

“We’d like a room, please.”

The man eyed them up and down. Bellamy could imagine they both looked worse for wear, in practically stolen clothes and only having slept for a few hours in a car. All after almost being blown up.

Bellamy was sure they looked the epitome of perfection and grace. Not. Internally, he snorted.

Regardless, the man turned to his computer and pulled up the available rooms. “One room or two?” he asked.

“Just one, thank you. One bed.” Clarke’s voice was polite, but her eyes suggested an intense impatience.

Bellamy’s eyes widened slightly before he remembered to school his expression. Clarke paid the man in cash, and within a few minutes, they had their keys and were making their way to the elevators.

Once they were inside and the doors rolled closed, Bellamy turned to Clarke. “Why did you-”

“Shhhh.”

Bellamy shut up and followed Clarke when the doors opened. It was only once they were inside their room - with the single bed - that Clarke turned to Bellamy.

“The wait staff at Arcadia thought you were waiting for your wife. If Echo did her homework, she knows that. It’s as easy of a cover to maintain as any. We’re certainly not related.”

This time, Bellamy snorted externally. Clarke’s lips lifted in a small smile. “Okay, fine. You take the bed then, you’ve barely slept.”

Clarke laughed then. “Bellamy, I think we’re mature enough to share the bed. You’re not scared of your wife, are you?”

That tore a laugh out of him. “No, I suppose not.” They smiled at each other. “Seriously though, go to sleep. I want to shower anyway.”

Shrugging, Clarke turned to the bed and opened her duffle bag. Bellamy slipped into the bathroom.

\---

Clarke was asleep by the time Bellamy finished his shower. He’d forgotten to pack his razor, which was upsetting to him. He’d never had much luck pulling off facial hair, but he supposed it would make him look different. Maybe different enough to throw off their presumed tail.

Bellamy was musing over this as he made his way to the small desk in the room. Since Clarke was asleep, now was the perfect time to work on his Michelin reports.

_ Let’s give Arcadia that third star. _

\---

Clarke always rose with the sun, no matter how little sleep she’d gotten. Once, at Miller’s suggestion, she’d gotten drunk the night before, to see if she'd sleep later. In the end, she’d actually woken up  _ earlier _ than normal.

It was a curse.

Clarke rolled over and saw that the other side of the bed was made, Bellamy sitting at the little table by the window. The curtains were open, and he was watching the sun rise.

Clarke was decidedly not admiring his profile.

“Did you sleep at all?” He was in his pajamas, but they didn’t look slept in.

“Hmm?” Bellamy turned to her, blinking slowly. “Ah, no. I wasn’t tired. I am hungry though. Breakfast?”

Clarke rose onto her forearms. Bellamy’s eyes briefly traced the way her hair flowed down her back. “Sure. We can order room service.”

Bellamy grunted like the idea offended him personally. Which it did. “Room service? Oh no, no. We’re in St. Louis! There are so many great options here, we’re not ordering room service.”

Clarke’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling.  _ Great. I’m stuck with a foodie with no regard for his own safety. _ “Bellamy. Have you forgotten that there are people, at the very least, Echo, likely following us? And that those people blew up a restaurant the last time we were at one?”

He scoffed. “Of course I remember,  _ Princess _ . We’ll keep it low profile. Obviously.”

If the NSA has taught her anything, it’s when to pick her battles. Bellamy’s posture told Clarke all she needed to know: he was not budging. She sighed. “Fine.”

“Great!”

\---

They passed multiple restaurants while they walked before finding one that didn’t offend Bellamy’s apparently delicate sensibilities. Clarke made sure to let him know that she thought he was being ridiculous.

“Hey!” he laughed, her jibes were nothing compared to Octavia’s. “I don’t know when I’m ever going to get to be in St. Louis again, I want to enjoy it.”

They (meaning Bellamy) settled on a restaurant called BLT’s. Not the sandwich, no no, but rather “Breakfast, Lunch, and Tacos.”

“It’s such an interesting concept!” Bellamy was practically buzzing with excitement, curls jumping with each quick turn of his head; Clarke was barely holding back laughter. Bellamy ordered a chorizo and egg taco, as well as a sunrise taco, while Clarke ordered a veggie scramble.

“Come on, Clarke. Not even a taco? It’s in the name!”

“So is the word  _ breakfast _ , Bellamy.” He scoffed.

When the food arrived, Bellamy pulled out some of his papers from the backpack he carried.

“What are you doing?” Clarke asked.

“Grading.” Bellamy pushed a paper towards her. It appeared to be a history report written by a student that didn’t understand punctuation.

“Yikes.”

“You have no idea.”

Of course, what Clarke didn’t know was that Bellamy had a small notebook open under the table, and while he appeared to be reading his student’s papers, he was actually writing a critique on the tacos.

_ The chorizo has a good amount of spice, but the taco itself is a little dry, despite the pepper jack cheese. What the taco could really use is a small amount of salsa… _

When they finished eating, and Bellamy gave the offending paper he showed to Clarke a C-, they walked back to the hotel.

When their door closed, Clarke pulled out her phone. It was a burner that Harper gave her before they left Chicago. She dialed a number and held it up to her ear, holding out a finger before Bellamy could ask what she was doing.

Thankfully, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Murphy, are you in town?”

“Clarke? What the shit, Griffin, I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks now!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m on the run, you know how it is.”

“I do know how it is, which is why you should have picked up your  _ fucking _ phone!”

“Lay off Murphy. Are you in town or not?”

“You’re in St. Louis? Why?”

“Murphy.”

“ _ Fuck _ you. No, I’m not in St. Louis. I’m in Oklahoma City on an assignment. At the sister branch.”

“Well, I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to talk to  _ you _ . When can you get here?”

Clarke scoffed. “Get there? Murphy, I’m on the run, with a civilian no less. I don’t have time to be making detours!”

“You have time for this one. Get here.” He hung up.

“That absolute  _ bastard _ .”

Bellamy blinked at her, wide eyed. “Who was that?”

“John Murphy, another NSA operative. He’s a friend.”

“Some friend.”

Clarke shrugged.

Looking like he was about to poke a bear, Bellamy asked, “Clarke, why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“The NSA.”

Clarke regarded him for a moment. He had sat down in the chair he’d occupied that morning, Clarke had perched on the end of the bed. His eyes were kind, and he seemed sincere, even if Clarke suspected he was hiding something. Not that she had any proof, but she can’t imagine why else he would have so easily gone along with playing her husband. That alone was far from normal behavior. But, she had no reason to hide at this point. He already knew too much for an apparent civilian, knowing her tragic backstory wouldn’t make him any more dangerous.

“My father was murdered when I was 14, and they never found the killer.”

Bellamy grew quiet, dark eyes widening.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be an artist, but when Dad got killed, I just wanted to figure out who did it. The case is long cold now - it’s been over 10 years - but while I can’t help my Dad, I can help other people. Stop other tragedies from happening. The government is so corrupt. I figure, by inserting myself into that narrative, I can help make things a little better.”

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.” His gruff voice was gentle.

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Clarke cleared her throat. “Well, we shouldn’t drive during daylight hours, and we also shouldn’t wander around the city. So, I don’t know about you, but I’m going back to sleep.”

In the end, they traded off taking naps until early evening. By then. Bellamy’s stomach was making some truly obscene noises.

“I’ll go to the corner store and get us some food.”

“Bellamy, we really shouldn’t be going out - even this morning was a mistake.”

He huffed. “Well, I’m not going to eat fast food. So unless you’d like me to eat you, Princess, I’m going to get something from the corner store.” Bellamy flushed scarlet when his brain caught up with his words. He hoped Clarke didn’t notice.

She noticed. But, feeling gracious, she elected to ignore it. “It’s still a bad idea. With Echo tailing us-”

“Echo’s been tailing you, not me. She maybe got a glimpse of me in the restaurant, but I looked different. She’s not going to notice me.”

Clarke looked as though she was in pain, but she sighed. “Okay. Be quick, alright? If you’re not back in half an hour, I’m going to assume you were compromised, and I  _ will _ leave without you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“See you in half an hour then.”

\---

Echo watched as the man traveling with Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, walked into the corner store. He had a two day old scruff, but that did little to disguise the large man loping through the streets of St. Louis.

Echo could confront him, and demand that he take her back to Clarke, but Echo suspected that this man may be strong willed. She didn’t believe he would go easily, but he didn’t need to. Echo was content, for now, to keep following them, keeping her distance.

\---

Bellamy made it back to the hotel room with time to spare, weighed down with multiple bags of food. He didn’t like that he was being forced to live on convenience foods, but, he reminded himself, even this was a step up from what he and Octavia had to eat as children. Namely, that he had anything to eat at all.

Clarke had already packed their bags by the time he returned, the sun slowly setting over the city. “It’s time to go,” she said, thrusting his bag into his arms. They made their way towards the parking garage.

Before setting out, Clarke opened the trunk and pulled out a license plate. She then swapped it with the plate that was already on the car.

“I suppose that’s better than grand theft auto.”

Clarke snorted. “That’s for the next town. For now, the plates are fine.” 

Bellamy wasn’t sure if she was kidding. Clarke’s eyes said that she wasn’t.

And they were off.

As they turned onto the highway, Bellamy spoke. “Why did you save me?”

The when and where went without saying.

Clarke was quiet for a moment. “Would you have rather I left you?”

“You might not be in this mess if you had.”

Clarke was silent, waiting for an answer. She had wondered herself. It was true that things might not have gotten so crazy had she left Bellamy, but she also likely wouldn’t have deciphered Octavia’s note as quickly without him. And it was… nice. To have the company.

Eventually, Bellamy sighed. “No, I don’t wish you had left me. I probably would have died if you did.” Echo would have thought Bellamy was Agent Blake regardless of if he left with Clarke that night. “But, still, why did you? You were upset when you realized I wasn’t Agent Blake, but you had me come with you anyway.”

Again, Clarke was quiet. Bellamy counted to twenty before she said, “I’m tired of the death.”

What she didn’t say was that Clarke has likely condemned Bellamy to death anyway.  _ He’s right, Echo probably would have killed him if I left him behind, but now he’s involved. Now Echo will kill him, if we get caught. _

They were mostly quiet for the rest of the drive, Bellamy dosing until he saw Clarke’s eyes begin to droop. He insisted on driving the rest of the way.

They rolled up to a motel on the outskirts of Oklahoma City at 4 am. Paying in cash, they again got a room with one bed.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy. “Get some sleep.”

“Why?” Bellamy asked.

“It’s best to be as rested as possible when dealing with John Murphy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: BLT's is a real place and I have eaten there! They have some really good food. I highly recommend you check it out!
> 
> And Murphy has been introduced! He's a really funny character, I hope you all like him.
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Leave a comment of what you think will happen, I love theories! I'm hoping to kind of post as I go once I pre-write a few more chapters. I really hope you enjoyed!


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